Page 15 of Rebooked For Us
Forty-five minutes later, the verdict came back.
Not guilty on all counts.
Mudd stood and grabbed me by both shoulders before we shook hands until it turned into a hug.
“Thank you, Cane. You a solid nigga, bruh. Hell yeah!!”
The gallery erupted. Cameras went off. His team rushed to the table. I stepped back and made eye contact with myfather, who stood with his arms crossed, watching me with an unreadable expression.
Fuck ‘em.
I straightened my tie, shook opposing counsel’s hand, and headed out to celebrate my victory.
“Every outlet wants a statement,”he said.
“Tell them the justice system worked today. That’s the statement.”
“Ducane—”
“Devon.”
He put the phone down. “Fine. But when you get back, you will speak to the press about the case. I’ll get Lola on it.”
I walked to the waiting car, slid in, and headed toward the office. I leaned back and removed my tie as a broad smile spread across my face behind the partition. The excitement was finally taking over as I started laughing and clapping in the back seat.
I leaned to rest my head back again, looking at the stars on the ceiling.
“Kareem, give me two hours,” I said as we pulled up to Shane & Simmons. The cameras waiting outside the office told me the story had only gotten bigger.
“Garage?”
“Nah, might as well get it over with,” I said, stepping from the car.
I stopped and answered a few questions because that was the quickest way to get them to leave. And I wanted them muthafuckas gone before I came back out. I gave the press myspiel that sounded like Marshawn Lynch’s ‘I’m just here’ bit. I wasn’t a fan of the press; they’d spin anything for clicks and views. I refused to give them anything to make money off of.
“What about Bianca?” Will you talk about that?”
I headed inside, especially ignoring that shit. The elevator moved quickly to my floor. I could hear the party before I made it off the elevator.
When I stepped off, the tenth floor was unrecognizable. Black and gold everywhere, somebody had gotten streamers and balloons and a banner that said NOT GUILTY in letters big enough to see from the lobby. Rayna had a bottle of Moët already open and was pouring it into plastic cups.
They saw me before I got to the reception desk.
The cheer that went up hit me in the chest in a way I hadn’t been expecting. My team. The people who had worked with pulling discovery, running down witnesses, building the case that everybody in that courtroom felt today. They earned this celebration as much as I did.
“Y’all are all fired for drinking on the job,” I said, laughing as I made my way to my office. I stopped and turned to them. “Look, I don’t usually get emotional, but we did some big shit today. We should all be full of pride. And on some real shit, I need a minute. I’ll be back out to party. Thanks for all the hard work.”
The cheers got louder, and I chuckled as I made it behind the door of my office. I removed my suit jacket and plopped down at my desk with another sigh.
I took everything in before I pulled the strip with four pictures from our first homecoming together out of my desk and studied it. I locked in like I’d never seen it before. Anything I did was for her. In spirit at least.
My alarm went off. I headed to the small bar in my office, grabbed water, and took my blood pressure medicine. Two yearsago was when shit really started clicking. I felt like God, or someone, was showing me signs of the fake life I had been living. It was killing me. Truly killing me.
The dizzy spells started during the closing arguments in one case. A consistent ringing in another. Standing in front of a jury talking about reasonable doubt, I felt the room tilt just enough to make me grab the edge of the podium. Nobody noticed. I made sure of that. But I noticed. I had been noticing ever since.
The doctor used words like chronic stress, hypertensive crisis, and lifestyle modification. I sat in that office chair, heard all of it, drove back to work, and took on three more cases. That was what I did.
Until my body stopped me.
